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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451766">Shield Your Eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazbinhearts/pseuds/hazbinhearts'>hazbinhearts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Protectiveness, moths can be sent into a trance if the light is strong enough</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazbinhearts/pseuds/hazbinhearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentino didn't always wear those heart-shaped shades.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Valentino/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shield Your Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustInIrony/gifts">LustInIrony</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Moths are slightly less sensitive to red light vs all other types of light! Just a fun fact for ya'll. Merry Christmas Rose, so happy to be your Secret Santa! I hope this gives you a little light and carries you right through to the New Year.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Will you quit moving around?! Fuck, Val, I’m not gonna <em> stab </em>you!”</p>
<p>Valentino could be the biggest, most dramatic pain in the ass in the world, but that didn’t mean Vox was going to stop giving a shit about him. He was a damn good business partner, and his only friend in this Hellscape they found themselves in, deserved or not. Whether one ‘deserves’ the punishment enacted upon them feels pretty moot when it’s eternal damnation, but that’s here nor there.</p>
<p>The media Overlord is hunched over Valentino’s long, imposing frame, as it sits- no, writhes- in an office chair. You’d think the moth were being dissected, or subjected to some other terrible torture, the way he moves and jerks erratically, cursing and snarling his warning sounds. He’s so convinced the procedure is going to <em> hurt </em> , and though Vox assured him a thousand times over, he’s throwing his stupid too-sober tantrum about it. Vox holds a device that looks quite like a laser pointer with a small magnifying lens at the end, gunmetal grey and sleek in all design aspects. Val’s eyelid is held open with medical tape, and the item in Vox’s grasp rotates a few degrees to capture an image of his eye, all sides and every surface inch. No light shines in, no apparatus pokes, it’s a harmless and <em> painless </em> scan.</p>
<p>When it’s done, Vox rips the tape off of Val’s eyelids none to gently (nevermind that it really doesn’t hurt to take it off roughly) and lets him blink. </p>
<p>“Fuck, bastard, that can’t be the <em> only way </em>-” Val sneers, squeezing his eyes shut tight and blinking, where Vox can see them water each quite a bit. </p>
<p>“Your eyes wouldn’t be so dry if you’d just listened to me in the first place.” Vox shoots back. “This is for <em> you</em>, you know. I don’t <em> have </em>to do it.”</p>
<p>“Shut up.” Val snaps too quickly. Vox knows he doesn’t want him to pull out now. It would be a waste of a lot of time, energy, planning, and <em> research;</em> research Val didn’t want to do himself. “Lemme go.”</p>
<p>Vox glances down at the binds that hold the moth to the chair, thick black cable tethering all four of his arms and both his legs in place. The temptation to leave him there with nothing but his own  exhausting diatribe was so tempting. He had given Vox such a damn hard time, every step of the way.</p>
<p>“No.” Vox says shortly, getting up and walking to the other side of the room, fully prepared for the assault of verbal abuse he was about to endure for just <em> leaving </em>Valentino tied to a chair like this, in a vulnerable position, against his will.</p>
<p>“Sorry, didn’t catch that, you said <em> what </em> to <em> me? </em>” He sneers, sure enough.</p>
<p>“You heard me. We’re not done, so you don’t need to get up yet.” He answers, back to his business partner as he places the pen down on a scanner bed. A few seconds later, he’s sorting through information on the screen attached to it.</p>
<p>Val laughs, and it’s not kind. It’s one of his angry laughs, disbelieving that Vox would tread such dangerous waters, but he knows what he’s doing. He knows if this doesn’t take right, it’ll be a long time before he can convince his friend to try again, so it has to be tonight. At all costs.</p>
<p>To drown out the inevitable shit-slinging Val wants to do, Vox lifts a hand and flicks his wrist. Barry White croons that <em> too much of anything is not good for you, baby, but I don’t know about that!, </em> and Vox can take Barry White or leave him, really, but he knows putting on some <em> top 70’s drivel </em> will piss him off about the incredibly generic taste of ‘greatest hits’ decade music, instead of focusing on being strapped to a chair so much.</p>
<p>By the time he’s done, so is Mr. White, and it’s quiet again as Val seethes in his seat. Vox turns around, a pair of round spectacles in his hand, pushing a lens carefully into the frame and inspecting his work as he draws closer.</p>
<p>“Alright. This should work.” He mutters, bending over that glaring expression on the pimp’s face and slipping the glasses into place. As per the <em> logic </em>of this dimension, the glasses do not even have arms attached to them, and seem to ‘float’ on Val’s face effortlessly. It’s fucking weird, but Vox doesn’t care about that, or how odd it was when they first discovered it.</p>
<p>“Now t--”</p>
<p>“NO.” Val spits, tossing his head away viciously before Vox can even lean back and look. The glasses go <em> flying </em>and skittering onto the floor, and the TV demon sparks between his antenna in alarm.</p>
<p>“What the fuck, Val!?” He shouts, rushing over to pick them up and check for damage.</p>
<p>“Those are fucking <em> hideous! </em> ” He shrieks. “I told you, I’m not lookin’ like a fuckin’ <em> square </em> out there! I don’t give a <em> shit </em>what you think, I’d rather do that whole fucking song and dance again than--”</p>
<p>“Are you serious!?” Vox shouts right back, lifting his free hand and clenching his sharp, digital teeth. “I go through all this--”</p>
<p>“Nobody <em> asked you </em>to do this!”</p>
<p>“Oh, <em> fuck </em> you, Val, <em> fuck you! </em>”</p>
<p>“Like to see you <em> TRY </em>you electric fucking egghead!”</p>
<p>Vox loses his patience. He lets the glasses drop to the floor and lunges forward, planting one leg on either side of Val’s, gripping his chin in his sharp-clawed hand hard enough to leave marks on his jaw where they sink in. His screen is right up close to the moth’s eyes, though it is significantly more dim than ‘usual’.</p>
<p>“Do you know how easy it would be to fucking ruin you?” He whispers, a dangerous, deadly tone that sucks the wind right out of Val’s sails, from the look in his eyes <em> now </em> . “To take <em> advantage </em> of your biggest weakness? To <em> command you </em> to do anything I asked? I could. All I have to do is make the lights a little brighter. Your mind isn’t your own after that, we both know it. I could make you take down your own empire, I could make you jump off this fucking building. I could make you lay still while I <em> rip you apart</em>, too. It wouldn’t be hard, not at all, barely a fucking thought, Val.”</p>
<p>The silence and sharpness that lingers between them is painful. A tense, angry moment of threat and potential, and he sees the shock of his words on Val. He doesn’t see fear, though, because...they both know Vox would never do any of that.</p>
<p>“Anyone could.” He breathes, those digital chords singing four syllables that <em> do </em> strike fear into the moth in his clutches. “Anyone with a flashlight close enough to your face could take you away from me.” His voice is softer, more of a <em> trembling terror </em> of his own, speaking a nightmare into existence. </p>
<p>He lets go of his chin and pushes his screen in close, pressing it gently against Val’s forehead, closing his eyes, a sigh rattling his chest as, for once, he has all of Valentino’s attention and he’s not going to <em> interrupt </em>. He’s being taken seriously. It’s a comforting feeling. His hand drops to his partner’s chest, his claws curl into a bit of that white ruff, squeeze the impossibly soft strands of fur.</p>
<p>“I know you can handle yourself, that’s not why I’m doing this.” He clarifies, keeping his eyes shut and his body tense. “I just need to put my <em> own </em>seal on it. I need...I need you to be okay.”</p>
<p>He lifts his heavy monitor away, and after seeing so little change in that motionless face he has been so focused on, he stands upright again. He picks up the discarded glasses, looks over the bonds on the chair, and shakes his head.</p>
<p>“...Fuckin’ dumbass.” Val mumbles. “I’ll wear ‘em, just-  not lookin’ like <em> that </em>.”</p>
<p>“Oooookay,” Vox rolls his eyes, humoring him, relieved to hear his concession. “I’ll try some rectangular frames, then.”</p>
<p>“No. Not that shit either.”</p>
<p>“There aren’t a lot of-”</p>
<p>“Hearts.”</p>
<p>Vox blinks, surprised and confused. Then he laughs, and notices Val isn’t laughing, and it dies off. </p>
<p>“You’re serious.”</p>
<p>“No shit.” Val growls. “It’s my <em> brand </em>, Vox. If I gotta be tethered to glasses, it’s gonna be a fucking statement. Else people are gonna wonder what the fuck happened. Get your head outta your ass.”</p>
<p>“Fine, fine, okay, it’s a fashion statement now.” He moves toward the machine once more, roots around on the wall beside it, and then makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t really have <em> heart shaped frames</em>. I’ll have to order some.”</p>
<p>“I’ll take care of it. Have ‘em done custom.” He grumbles.</p>
<p>“Okay, but what are we going to do until then?”</p>
<p>Val looks considering as Vox turns around to take him in, a hand on his hip and the discarded round glasses spun between his fingers. He’s glad Val is on board. He just wishes he’d be less <em> fussy </em>.</p>
<p>“I stay here.” He shrugs. “Jus’ until we get the right frames.”</p>
<p>Vox looks incredulous, moves to make a few sounds that should begin words, and then just throws his arms up. He re-approaches and settles the glasses on his face once more.</p>
<p>“Alright, okay, <em> sure </em> . Stay here until we get your <em> special frames</em>. At least test the lenses so I know I’ve done it right.”</p>
<p>“How are we gonna---”</p>
<p>Vox shuts him up by throwing his screen’s natural brightness all the way up, monitor burning with heat as it displays in all white, eclipsing Vox’s mouth entirely, leaving only his eyes and digital brows to move around the edges of his boundary and take Val’s face in.</p>
<p>“....Shit.” Val breathes. “You did it. Son of a bitch, Vox- Vox!” he shouts, a grin splitting his face open. “Ugly as sin, terrible, rotten job on the aesthetics, but what can I expect from you? They <em> WORK! </em>” He cheers, clearly very glad for the results, and Vox returns his screen to its typical brightness with a snowcrash laugh.</p>
<p>“Okay, dickhead.” He mutters, pulling back and smiling. He lets Val up from the cables around his limbs and he immediately springs up, adjusting the glasses on his face a little. It seems now that he has proof of concept working, he is less offended by what these glasses are lacking aesthetically.</p>
<p>“Gotta celebrate.” The moth says at once, dusting himself off, adjusting his signature coat.</p>
<p>“Great.” Vox replies, sarcasm dripping from the single syllable. “Alcohol and drugs. I can’t wait.”</p>
<p>“Now who’s the dickhead? ‘M not talkin’ consumables, Vox.” Val grins, wrapping a long arm around his shoulders. He tips those glasses down- despite not having a <em> nose </em>- and winks at his companion. “Unless you count my--”</p>
<p>“Oh, <em> look at the time</em>, it’s <em> abstinence-o’-clock. </em> ” Vox pretends to check his watch, scoot <em> away </em>from Val, who just laughs at him and drags him in close. He swings the TV demon right into his waiting lower arms, shifts him to the upper set, and plants a wet kiss on his screen. He grimaces and wipes his sleeve across it, but that does little to help with streaks.</p>
<p>“Don’t pull that shit on me,” Val carries him toward the kitchen, of all places. “I know you can’t get enough’a <em> this </em>.”</p>
<p>“Where are we going? Did you forget which way the bedroom is?”</p>
<p>“Do I look old to you?” He snaps back. “I didn’t forget. We’re not goin’ to the bedroom.”</p>
<p>“I-”</p>
<p>“Will you shut up and let me fuck you over the counter?! I won’t in a second! I fucking won’t, I swear, I’ll drop you in the sink and turn on the water, Vox, don’t <em> test me</em>.”</p>
<p>“Fuck, okay, okay!”</p>
<p>“We’re <em> celebrating your genius</em>, and you can’t even get with the fuckin’ party. Vox, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t like me.”</p>
<p>“Why the fuck would I go to all the trouble of making you <em> light-filtering glasses </em> if I didn’t <em> like </em>you? Do you know how long that took me? Do you know how many appointments I blew off to-”</p>
<p>“I didn’t <em> ask </em> you to!” Val groans the phrase again, but this time it is far more fond as he puts Vox down in the promised land of the kitchen, shoving him up against the counter- just as he said he would.</p>
<p>“That’s the <em> point </em> ,” He shoots back, grabbing Val’s coat edge, all its tacky zebra-printed glory, and yanking him in close to press against his screen. The glasses make a strange glass-on-plastic sound. “<em>I keep my things safe. </em>”</p>
<p>Vox chalks the broken blender up to a loss and adds it to the list of things Valentino has broken in his haste to get his dick out.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Later that evening, all quiet and cozied up in bed, Vox is getting ready to ‘power down’. He hadn’t been sleeping at all since working on this project, so it was high time for some rest, for he could only last a few days ‘on’. Val, curled up beside him, complains of the cold lingering in the sheets that, were he home, would not be an issue for his <em> heated mattress pad </em> that he had on a <em> timer. </em>He goes on and on about it until Vox reaches out and drags him close into his side, urging his head to lay on his chest and his body to relax in a comfortable, familiar sleeping position.</p>
<p>“Go to sleep.” The media mogul urges, even reaching up and slipping his thumb and index finger over Val’s eyelids to shove them down gently but unceremoniously.</p>
<p>“Fuck off,” he snaps in return, shoving at his hand. Vox smiles as he obeys and rests it instead on his shoulder, dragging his thumb across bare skin. “...You gonna sleep in?”</p>
<p>“Probably not.” He knows not, there’s no ‘probably’ about it.</p>
<p>“What’s the <em> point </em> then...” Val yawns, interrupting himself. “Dumb.” He drags his leg over to slowly curl and twist it over one of Vox’s, a low, fluttery moth-like hum rising from his chest as he feels his calf slide against Vox’s, as he relishes in the skin-on-skin contact of so much of them in such a peaceful moment, with no pressure to perform or to <em> be </em>anything. It always came easier at times like this, to appreciate all the soft, slow affection they so rarely indulged in.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Val.” He answers simply, and with a snap that produces a bright blue spark, the lights are out. Soon, all Vox can hear is the rhythmic breathing of his companion, the low hum of frequency given off from the electricity in his home, and the peace of his mind.</p>
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